Blood And Ice
by Read.Live.Vocaloid
Summary: Len, with his spicy devilishness, is the school's playboy...How many times have we heard that story over and over again? But what happens years later to a heartbroken Luka when she sees Len again? "His eyes, like ice, froze me in place" And what happens to Len when Luka seems keen on getting revenge? Shame her plan fails… But even she couldn't have predicted love to happen.
1. Pestering Memories

Hello. Here's a LenxLuka that came to me when reading Ryuchu's review to Temptation (my LenxLuka one-shot).

I was also inspired by Luka's "Rip=Release". I recommend to hear while reading.

Welcome to my take on what happened after Len's "Spice!-y" days.

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Blood And Ice

Chapter I: Pestering Memories

She intently watched the scorching hot water flow out from the faucet. Such a menial task, yet the lack of silence, even if only by the constant sound of water falling on water, she found oddly comforting.

She sighed and willed her body to relax. _I turned the water to the hottest for you, at least respond to it!_

She slouched deeper into the tub, making the water reach up to her chin.

She found it ironical how when the water is in such a high grade of heat, the moment it comes in contact with your skin it feels as cold as ice. Just the same as when you jump into a pool of freezing water, your skin feels as if on fire.

Irony; it one of the principal causes of her survival.

Sighing again, a habit she'd picked from _him_, she turned off the water. The tub was at its limit.

She looked up to the roof, not caring that her hair got wet anymore.

No matter how much she thought, her thoughts always frustratingly returned to him.

And she found out, day after day, just how sadistic she could apparently be.

Sighing, and repressing her frustration at doing so, she gave up and decided to simply submerge her whole head. Her hair would smell of the roses the water was coated in.

"_It may be too cliché, but I've always preferred roses above all other flowers. They symbolize to me, not the romance, passion, or friendship, as they apparently do to everyone else. No, their crimson captivates me, the color of blood. They're beautiful, yet they have spines. They dangerous. They're seductive. They remind me of you."_

A chill ran down her spine. And that was difficult, considering she was submerged in an almost-boiling tub of water.

Yet the memory continued, successfully torturing her, as it and its colleagues had every day. Every night. Every moment. Ever since _him._

_ "Ha. How many people have you used that line on before, Kagamine?"_

_A smirk to match her own grazed its way to his smooth, pale lips. "The grand total of Luka Megurine"_

_ A pleased purr escaped her lips. "You know I've always liked you, right?"_

_His handsome features turned into that hunter-like expression she adored. She felt as if he'd eat her alive. "A point to my side, then"_

"_But I'm not that easy"_

"_Oh?" Pride. And how abundant that it was in his tone._

"_You'll have to work hard to ever dream of wanting me. Even more if you plan on having me"_

"_And how can I start?"_

_A smile. He has fallen into her trap. Even though, she knows it'll be her losing the game—masochism, in its purest definition and example. "Bring me a rose each day."_

_And not more than thirteen hours later, Luka arrived to find a single red rose on her desk. She smiled. A note was attached to it._

"_In exchange, bathe your hair in roses for me."_

_And so she had. Every day._

Even now.

She got her head out of the water and took a deep breath, smiling lightly as she felt her cheeks sting- they'd been burned by the water. _What a masochist you've made me become, Len Kagamine._

She hugged herself, seeking not physical warmth, but emotional. The warmth she really needed, and that not even this scorching bathtub could provide.

She sighed, only to bite her lip. She resisted the urge to scream out.

She hated him.

But she couldn't hate him.

And that's what made her hate him the most.

She groaned. Loudly.

But, since she couldn't concentrate her hatred on Len, she was left with only one person to center it around. Herself.

Whoopee.

She faintly heard a door open.

She smiled. Whenever it was quiet, it was easier for the memories to take her over, and it now appeared as if the silence was about to come to an end for the day.

"Luka?" she heard a honey-sweet, guttural voice ask.

It wasn't the voice she wanted—the voice she needed—, but it would have to do.

"Here." she called back.

Footsteps. She measured their tempo so as to distract herself.

"May I?" the voice repeated. It was just in front of the bathroom's closed, but not locked, door.

She rolled her eyes. _Innocent, caring Gakupo… Boring, yet desperate times call for desperate measures._

"If you dare." she managed to seductively whisper.

The door hesitantly slid open.

A long mop of purple hair slowly stepped in the gold-floored, white-tiled bathroom.

If his deliberativeness intended to be flirtatious or was product of yet-to-fade shyness, she wasn't sure. And she didn't truly care either. She could seduce him either way.

In her mind's eye, she smiled. It was now that she understood and knew Len's power, its blinding feeling and its addictive obsessiveness. She liked it, so now she knew not to blame him for his treason.

Now she blamed not him but his pride for her broken heart, somehow still miraculously beating.

"Do I interrupt?"

She smiled, appearing seductive, for appearances had to kept up, if not, where was the fun of it?

"Would you ever."

He raised an eyebrow. Amateur attempt of looking seductive to compete, she concluded. But at least he tried.

She slowly, deliberately much as he'd been before, stood from the tub, letting him admire her figure. She knew she had no plain, out-of-the-bunch body, in fact, she'd successfully temped many with her curves. Yet only one of those who'd fallen, even if momentarily, for her assets truly mattered to her. Ironically he had been the first she'd ever willingly tried to tempt.

As expected, the purplette did not keep his gaze on her deep, blue-gray eyes, so similar in color to a cloud just before a downpour. No, he instead let them wander slowly up and down her body. They ran over each curve and texture, one could even say ogled, at its undeniable beauty.

She smiled, satisfied.

"Are you in the mood for a bath, darling?"

Still, his gaze did not return too her own. She was simply so _distracting_. He couldn't help but be engrossed at her perfection.

"Are you?" he responded, never sure how to answer her so that it was she who was surprised and not he, for a change.

"Honestly?" she asked aloud, lifting a leg out of the tub then bringing the other until she was completely out. "No."

He chuckled, attempting to appear calm, which Luka made him anything but.

She turned, his back to him, and shamelessly leaned down to pull the cap of the bath.

Heat rose to his cheeks. He couldn't help it. Almost a month with Luka and he still couldn't be used to, much less _unaffected_ by, her appealing ways. Enticing, sometimes they seemed, even.

She turned back to him. "Would you please pass me my towel?"

So he did, reaching out for the deep crimson cloth behind him.

Once in her hands, she proceeded to provocatively dry her legs, wondering how far Gakupo would be able to take it.

Not long, apparently—and not that he could be blamed.

His long, wide hands placed themselves over hers, his bashfulness finally seeming to have melted.

_Finally_ she thought. She knew from experience that Gakupo was timid until he reached a certain point of frustration.

He proceeded to then slowly dry the rest of her body, planting sweet, delicate, almost ethereal kisses as he went.

Luka closed her eyes, trying to savour the moment. _Such innocent kisses shouldn't be bestowed upon me. Not only do I not deserve them, but they no longer satisfy me._

_Oh, Len, how you've corrupted me_, she bitterly—yet strangely without regrets—thought.

He finished with her face, already beyond his self, teasingly kissing her chin, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose.

Irritated already at his deliberateness, she decided—no, _needed_—to speed things up.

So she grabbed his face by either side and urgently kissed him, their lips finally making contact with the other.

She gasped him in, his too-sweet-for-her taste aroma, pretending it was the spicy elixir she really needed. She held him close, pretending his too-developed-for-her-liking physique was the one her arms ached to hold.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deep, pretending it was someone else, totally different in front of her.

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So, what'cha think? Review, please, and remind me to update (I'm prone to forget).

Have a great day!


	2. Early In The Morning

Hey! Happy belated Valentine's! (For all Hetalia fans, I'l update a sweet GerIta soon in honor of the "holiday"! (: )

Just in case, OCD means Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. When a person had it, it means that they are way too aware of making sure everything is in order. Extravagantly so. People who often have "ticks" or manias of having everything in order and often teased to have OCD. Some really do, in a bigger or smaller percentage.

Enjoy!

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Chapter II: Early In The Morning

Luka somnolently rubbed her eyes. As she stretched she yawned, and as she lifted her arms over her head, she could scantily feel her body's soreness.

She smiled. The soreness diminished more and more each time. Between that and her being used to it, she practically didn't feel it anymore.

She stood, careful not to make too much noise—she wouldn't want to wake up the lightly snoring purplette—and made her way around the bed.

Before exiting the room, she turned to look at the pale body wrapped—more like burrito-ed—in the semi-malodorous blankets. She let her gaze wonder the messy mop of purple hair, longer even than her own, sprawled around the pillow. And a good portion of the mattress. Some strands were even hanging lose to the sides, their tips barely grazing the cold wooden floor.

She smiled, amusement painting her features, as she admired the purplette's sleeping form. Yet it was the smile a mother would give her child to show him her love, not the adoring smile a lover was supposed to give the other.

She made her way to the bathroom, kicking a discarded scarlet lump her still-half-asleep-mind later identified as her towel. She almost tripped on his tie, discarded too on the bathroom's cold floor.

Sighing in annoyance, yet still resigned to turn on the lights and further awaken herself, she cautiously made the rest of the way to the sink. She was extra-careful, though, making sure not to endanger her equilibrium any further with discarded clothes.

Once she finally arrived at the sink, she grabbed her toothbrush and proceeded to fervently wash her teeth and scrape her tongue—she hated the aftertaste she'd wake up to after eventful nights. It made her feel as if she had a second tongue in her mouth—and she might as well, after having swallowed so much foreign saliva.

Luka shuddered. She blamed this irrational revulsion to the aftertaste of a stranger's saliva on her the way her almost-OCD-bearing mother had raised her.

Not more than three minutes after, she was lying back down on the bed.

A groggy voice surprised her.

"What time is it?"

"Three fifty-eight." she answered the purplette.

He groaned in response.

Then she remembered.

"Your train leaves today at eight, right?"

"Yes, I'll be away for about a month. Maybe more. Depends on how the event flows, on how the people like it."

"Hmm." Luka pensively hummed, analyzing just how she'd survive that month or so. But she'd learned with the years that the less you worried about something, the better it was.

Suddenly his long arms wrapped around her bare figure, making skin meet skin and temperatures rise due to human warmth increasing. "I'm going to miss you so much. I hope the event doesn't extend so I can see you… But at the same time I wish people like it because we've worked so hard on it, which would cause it to extend… Does that make you too mad?"

She smiled. Façades had to be kept, after all. So she hugged him back.

She didn't deserve him. He was too sweet and thoughtful for her. She was too corrupted for him. So she decided to do him a favor.

"If you find a nice girl there and fall in love, please just kiss her. No guilt. No strings attached. No worrying about my reaction."

"No, no, Luka—"

She silenced him by placing her lean, graceful fingers on his thin lips.

"I'm not mad. Really. It's just… I don't want you to feel pulled back by someone who is so far away if you start liking someone else. Hell, I don't care if you just want to have sex with someone else and do so!" she paused, evaluating his reaction. Hurt hid in the depths of his dark blueish eyes, also seen as purple because of the reflection his hair implanted on them. "And I don't say it because I don't care about you or what you do, I'm saying it because I really want you to feel free if you feel something or feel a need around another person, okay?"

"Luka, I'm not—"

"I know you aren't cheating on me," she sent out soothing messages through her eyes. "But I want you to be able to be with someone other than me without guilt, okay? I'll still be here anyway." _Unfortunately._

He smiled, finally seeing the sense of her request. He understood now, even though he didn't like it. "Alright." He decided to agree. He'd long learned Luka was too stubborn: when she was sure of something, it was impossible to get her to back down.

She smiled. "Good, now sleep. Breakfast can wait."

He laughed. Luka was always, _always_ hungry. The fact never failed to amuse him. "Hungry even at three am?"

"Four." she flawlessly corrected.

He rolled his eyes. _She also loves to always have the last word._ But he was okay with it. He closed his eyes and was soon taken by his fatigue.

She studied his relaxed face, conveyed his delicate yet manly features to memory. She smiled as he muttered something unintelligible.

A sudden realization hit her. She blinked.

… She really was happy for Gakupo's event, and sincerely wished him success. She earnestly wished him happiness. She really did like him, even though not as a lover, she _did_ like him a lot as a friend. He'd been nothing but nice to her and he had this warm, sweet personality that easily made him everyone's friend.

He was a great person, and Luka realized that all the times she cheered him on hadn't really been a façade. That all the times she'd greeted him at home and made him a snack or watched a movie with him after a long day at work she would do so gaily. That the only times she'd had to act were when trying to be romantic.

She realized that her relationship with him hadn't been a complete lie. That she'd really made him into her friend. That she'd only had to pretend to be happy when things got amorous.

She really did hold affection towards him—just not the type that he wanted in return. The type he thought he was receiving.

Guilt made her stomach churn.

She knew how wrong this was for Gakupo, and she'd use his trip as an opportunity to slowly start separating from him. It'd be the best for him—and she truly did wish him the best.

She bit her lip. It'd be harder for her to go on, but… She turned back to his peaceful, sleeping face. _He really does deserve love and happiness. Not to be tied to me._

She yawned. _God_ she was tired. But as much as she twisted and turned, sleep still refused to grace her with its appearance.

She attempted to distract herself by humming a song softly, she also counted sheep, she re-read the Tuna Curry recipe in her mind—she even closed her eyes and imagined herself doing the plate! But sleep still refused to come.

She was starting to grow anxious. She was running out of ideas to distract herself, and when she ran out of ideas, _he_ started to appear in her thoughts-

_No! I _refuse_ to let him be the center of my thoughts!_

…

She bit her lip and closed her eyes tightly.

… As if she could control his appearance in her thoughts.

She mentally face-palmed. She was so pathetic.

She took a long, long time to finally fall asleep. Why? Gakupo's overriding, sickly sweet scent, the uneasy waves of guilt in her stomach and the great level of unconscious control _he_ had over her were molesting her.

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Did you like it? Did you hate it? Any questions or comments? A request or idea for this story? Please review! (By birthday's on monday... review as a B-day present? Pretty please?). Reviews inspire me and make me smile, so I love 'em!

See y'all soon!


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